


Despite the Confusion, We're Making it Work

by appetency



Series: Requested Fiction [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appetency/pseuds/appetency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This couldn't have been what you wanted, Wade was sure of it. He was trying, but it couldn't have been enough; not in any universe, let alone his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despite the Confusion, We're Making it Work

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:
> 
> “Don’t be stupid, I’m not leaving you.” + Wade Wilson

Wade was propped up against the headboard next to you, bare thigh against bare thigh, arm against arm, hand in hand, and limbs all tucked under a thin white sheet spotted with old blood on the corners. Wade always noticed the red and every night before going to bed, he told himself that he wouldn’t let you see him like that again. Every morning he would forget his promise, and by the end of the week, you would inevitably fall in the same pattern and he would come home covered in blood.

On the good nights, it wasn’t his own, and Wade hated that he gave you such a low standard.

But that night was, by any measure of the word, bad. His job had taken much too long and his head was nearly sliced all the way off. He came home with it attached on only by a thin stretch of flesh on the back of his neck and with the weight of a casualty bearing him down. He refused to speak to you until he had healed, and then he remained monosyllabic while he fucked you into the mattress out of frustration.

And then he had sat up and lied back against the headboard. You – you, with your warm cheeks and still-heaving chest, your concerned and piercing eyes, beautiful, beautiful you – sat by his side.

“I fucked up, babe. Really bad this time.”

You stayed quiet and curled your arm around his, taking his hand in your own. There wasn’t much more that you could say about it.

“You should leave me. How screwed up is this? I kill people for a living, and you have to watch your boyfriend come back to life every week,” he murmured, staring down at your intertwined hands, “It’s no good for you.”

This wasn’t the first time his insecurities broke past the dam he had built and flooded your room. Just knowing what was coming, however, didn’t stop either of you from drowning.

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not leaving you,” you told him with finality, “I love you. We’re making this work.” You turned to him to press your lips on his jaw and he instinctively leaned into you. His free hand came up to hold the back of your neck like you were a life preserver.

“You need me to leave you to your thoughts for a bit? Give you some space?” you asked with your lips still brushing over his ruined skin. He nuzzled his nose over yours, hand coming up to hold onto the back of your neck.

He shook his head. “Nah. Stay. I just really need you right now.”


End file.
